The Extraordinary Studio was quieter than when they’d arrived. Kira’s pod, number sixteen, was dark and unoccupied; she’d clearly given up the fight against sleep at some point and gone home. Only a handful of players remained, hunched over their rigs in the particular stillness of people who had decided the night wasn’t over yet.

Don retrieved his light-sensing glasses from the equipment station, tucked them into his bag, and walked with Lily to the elevator.

The lobby of Henshaw Tower was empty. The street beyond the glass doors looked the way Liverpool looked past midnight, quiet, amber-lit, the occasional taxi moving through the distance. They pushed through and stepped outside.

The group was waiting for them.

A loose semicircle of young men, various ages, various degrees of trying to look casual about standing in a group outside a building at one in the morning. The streetlight caught their faces clearly enough. Don recognized several of them immediately.

Gon Alliance players. In the flesh.

He kept his expression neutral while his mind recalculated several things very quickly. Finding a player’s physical location from an IP address in 3015 wasn’t a sophisticated operation, it was barely an inconvenience for anyone who knew where to look. He’d underestimated their motivation, which was a mistake he wouldn’t make again.

He stepped slightly in front of Lily without making it obvious.

"Gentlemen. You’ve come a long way. What can I do for you?"

Chicken, the one Don remembered as a particularly enthusiastic participant in their earlier in-game confrontation, pointed with the energy of someone who had been rehearsing this moment for hours. "You bastard. I’ve been holding onto this since this afternoon. Tonight I’m going to put you in a hospital bed."

Lily’s voice came from just behind Don’s shoulder, sharp and completely steady. "You lay a finger on my brother and I will make your life genuinely miserable. Lily Wright. Remember the name."

Chicken looked like he was about to say something unwise.

Nolan Hart put a hand on his arm and stopped him.

Don studied Nolan with fresh attention. He was younger-looking in person than Don had imagined, reasonably put-together, decent bone structure, small eyes that moved with more calculation than his posture suggested. He was the one in this group who thought before he acted, which made him the one worth watching.

"We’re not here to make things complicated," Nolan said. He glanced at the rankings interface on his wrist display, a quick, pointed gesture. "You’re fifth on the server now. That’s real. The Gon Alliance can use players like you. Whatever happened between us earlier, that’s done. Talented people get a longer leash."

Don let the offer land and settle before he responded.

He’d heard the pitch before, dressed in different clothes. The Gon Alliance’s reputation wasn’t subtle, territory seizure, targeted harassment, the particular brand of organized cruelty that hid behind guild mechanics and server politics. They were effective, and they were unpleasant, and those two qualities had kept them powerful for longer than they deserved.

"I appreciate it," Don said, and meant none of it. "My answer is no. It’ll stay no." He paused. "If you’ve come here to make a point, go ahead. But Lily doesn’t get touched. That one isn’t negotiable. Touch her and we’ll find out how loyal Scousers actually are."

Something shifted in Nolan’s expression, not quite respect, but the adjacent thing. He gave a single slow nod. "Fair enough. She’s not who we’re here for." The small eyes settled back on Don. "You’ve got one arm or one leg to spare. Your choice which one."

He didn’t finish the sentence.

Lily’s right leg came up in a clean, decisive arc, and the heel of her boot connected with the side of Nolan Hart’s head with a sound like a book dropped on hardwood. The Gon Alliance’s most measured member went down without ceremony.

Don didn’t waste time being surprised, he’d known for a while that she could fight. He caught the nearest body with a sharp forearm check, grabbed Lily’s wrist, and ran.

She matched his pace without complaint, which told him she’d already decided this was the move before he made it. They broke through the loose outer edge of the group and hit the pavement of Bold Street at full speed, the sound of motorcycle engines igniting behind them almost immediately.

Two hundred and fifty cc bikes. Don knew these streets, had known them since he was twelve years old running errands through the back routes between Henshaw and the market. The alleys off Bold Street were exactly what motorcycles hated, narrow, irregular, full of corners that punished overconfidence.

He pulled Lily left at the first gap.

The engines faded behind them.

They were almost through to the next connecting alley when four figures stepped out from the darkness ahead, baseball bats already raised. No words, no posturing, they just started swinging.

Don got his arm up in time to deflect the first strike and was calculating the geometry of the next one when something moved in his peripheral vision, fast, low, and deliberate. A hissing sound, sharp and chemical. The men in front of him recoiled simultaneously, hands going to their eyes, voices rising in pain.

A figure in dark clothing caught Don’s arm and pulled. "Move."

The voice was female, neutral, impossible to read. She swept one leg in a low arc that dropped two of the men cleanly, grabbed both Don and Lily, and dragged them into the alley at a pace that made it clear she’d done this kind of thing before.

Don kept his eyes on her as they ran.

Roughly one-sixty-five to one-seventy. Fit, not the slender fitness of someone who ran occasionally, but the denser, more deliberate build of someone who trained with a purpose. Dark jeans, dark top, the kind of clothing chosen for function. Her face was wrapped in a black cloth from the nose down.

She knew the streets as well as he did, maybe better, she took turns he wouldn’t have chosen and they worked, the pursuit losing the thread somewhere behind them until the only sounds were their own footsteps and their own breathing. They emerged into the residential stretch near Don’s flat and stopped.

Don bent forward, hands on knees, and caught his breath. "Thank you. Genuinely. That could have gone badly."

The woman made a short, irritated sound. "How selfish. You’re only thinking about yourself."

"They weren’t going to hurt Lily," he said, straightening up. "That was established." He looked at her more carefully. "Can I ask your name? I’d like to return the favor properly."

She reached up and pulled the black cloth free from her face in one sharp motion. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

"How dense can one person be?" she said flatly. "You didn’t recognize my voice the entire time?"